Emalie shook herself free of her reverie and thought about the duty to come this night. He would take her and make her his wife in all ways. And he would know her truth. The room darkened and began to close in around her. Try as she might, she could not catch her breath.
Alyce must have sensed the change in her, for she stopped what she was doing and draped a warm shawl over Emalie’s shoulders.
“There now, milady. All will be well.” Alyce clucked as she wrapped the length of wool tighter around her.
Emalie dared not look at her maid for fear of crying. Tears had threatened all day but now, wracked with worried anticipation over her coming wedding night, her eyes burned. Any reply was lost when the expected knock came on her door, but it was at the doorway that joined her room to her husband’s and not at the hallway, which she had expected. Emalie stood and faced it.
Eleanor entered her room, followed by Eleanor’s priest and then him…Christian Dumont. Eleanor walked across the room and took Emalie’s hands in her own and, with a nod, dismissed Alyce from the chamber. A soft look entered the queen’s eyes as she examined Emalie from her head to her toes, which were visible below the thin gown she wore.
“We are almost done, Emalie,” Eleanor whispered in a voice so low that no one else could hear.
Emalie curtsied slightly to her in response and lowered her gaze, waiting.
“Christian, your mother would be proud of you this day even as yours would be, Emalie.” Eleanor took Christian’s hands and encircled them around Emalie’s. “I am pleased to see two families who have been so important to me finally joined together in wedlock.” Eleanor sounded very pleased with herself over these arrangements, almost as though she had planned them for years. “Father, will you give them your blessing now?”
Emalie caught Christian’s gaze as he looked up, both startled by Eleanor’s actions. There should be a bedding ceremony and then the blessing. There should be witnesses so that no doubts of the validity of the marriage could be raised. Eleanor just smiled at them both and nodded at her priest, who raised his hand and made the sign of the cross before them.
Emalie did not hear the words he prayed. She could hear nothing but the beating of her heart as the moment she dreaded approached even more quickly. Soon there was quiet in the room and Emalie realized that Eleanor had dismissed even the priest now. Unable to move, she stood with her hands still clasped in Christian’s. He seemed as baffled by these proceedings as she.
“I informed those attending your wedding celebration that I would stand as witness to the bedding.” Eleanor looked from one to the other and nodded. “Now that Father has issued his blessing on your marriage and wedding night, I will retire.”
“Your Grace?” Emalie took a deep breath in and continued. “Should we? I mean…what is it you want us to do?”
Undressing before this man would be difficult enough, but with a witness? She had never attended a bedding before. She had only heard whispered tales of the undressing and examination that a newly married couple had to endure so that no objections to their physical suitability could be raised later. Eleanor gazed at her first and then at her new husband.
“Since there will be no repudiation of this marriage by either of you, I see no reason to do anything but wish you well and leave.”
Eleanor turned from them and walked to the door leading to the hallway, pausing with her hand on the latch before opening it. “And there will be no disavowal in the morning, will there? Christian? Emalie?” Not waiting for their responses, Eleanor pulled the door open and stepped into the hall. “I will be gone before you rise in the morn, so I will say my farewells now, my dears. Be kind to each other.”
And with those words, and after all her machinations, the dowager Queen of England, Duchess of Aquitaine and dowager Countess of Anjou left them alone. To begin their married life. Emalie shuddered at what her husband’s reaction would be when he found she was no longer a virgin. He watched her for a moment and then released her hands from his. She wondered what to do next.
“May I have some wine?” he asked in his native language.
“Of course, my lord. Would you sit while I pour some for you?” Emalie answered in the regional French he’d used. After pointing to a bench near the hearth, she filled a goblet for him and refilled her own and then carried them to him.
He accepted it from her with murmured thanks and sat down and stared into the fire for a few minutes. Not knowing what to do, Emalie stood at one end of the hearth, placed her goblet upon the mantel shelf and waited.
“So it was you who visited me while I bathed?” His voice broke the silence and she turned to face him.
“Yes, my lord. I brought you an herbal potion for your bath.”
“You have my thanks. ’Twas very soothing.” He stood and approached her. “But this is what I remember most.” She remained motionless as he reached out and lifted her hair from the edge of the shawl she clutched tightly around her. He slid his fingers through the length of it, gently, drawing it over her shoulders, and then looked into her eyes. His fingers grazed her neck and face, sending shivers through her. The breath she had finally found was lost once more as his hands touched and teased her shoulders and the tops of her breast.
She needed to warn him before this went any further. If he discovered that she had lost her virtue after he consummated their marriage, he might be angrier than being warned first. But the touch of his lips on hers drove any words or explanation she had planned right out of her mind. He moved his mouth over hers, stepping nearer still until he wrapped her in his embrace. His kiss was gentle, like the touch of his fingers on her skin, but persistent, and soon a wave of heat moved through her body until she felt sweat trickle down between her breasts.
Completely unexpected, this feeling of being held by him, of being kissed by him, undid her. She had tried to prepare herself to mate with him, to allow him his marital privileges, but never did she anticipate such a physical reaction from her own body.
’Twas not that she was without experience, although, other than a few kisses, she had no memory of what William had done. She only knew from Alyce that she would not feel a virgin’s pain again so this mating should not be difficult for her. Now, with the heat pouring through her, and his kisses becoming more insistent and impassioned, she thought that she might even tolerate this, but first she must warn him of what he’d find when they mated. Drawing her face from his, she sucked in a gasping breath.
“My lord. Please.”
“Emalie,” he said in a whispered voice. “So sweet.”
“I need to speak to you, my lord,” she begged as she pulled from his embrace. The room around her could not be cold and yet the loss of heat from being in his arms made it feel chilled indeed. She watched the expression on his face and in his eyes change as she stepped back from him. Disappointment appeared in his gaze now.
“You have my attention. What is so important that it can not wait?” His tone carried a sharp edge and Emalie worried about broaching this subject. Mayhap there was another way?
“My lord, I beg your tolerance and patience,” she began as she lowered her eyes. “I had thought that I could simply acquiesce to the demands of this marriage.”
The silence between them grew until she was forced to look up at him. Meeting his gaze and expecting to find disbelief or even anger, she was surprised instead to find a measure of acceptance or understanding in his expression.
“Am I so onerous that you find it, as you say, impossible to acquiesce to your duties?”
“Oh, no, my lord! ’Tis not you. Just that this marriage and its arrangements have happened in such a short time and with so little notice to me that I can hardly believe myself married.” A sad smile crossed his face and so she pressed on with what was probably a hopeless request. “And I suspect that you were surprised by this as well?”
“Surprised? Why would you say that? Marriage is expected of those in our class. The partner and the date of the ceremony ar
e the only questions left awaiting an answer.”
Emalie glanced over at her goblet of wine and reached for it. Sipping it, she tried to regain her calm and focus her thoughts on the thing she hoped to gain from her new husband. Unable to discern a proper approach, Emalie decided to simply ask.
“I would ask that we postpone this…” Unable to say the words, she motioned between them with her hand. “Until we know each other better.”
A choking sound drew her attention. Christian coughed a few times as though he had swallowed his own wine the wrong way. He wiped his eyes and looked at her.
“Lady? You are jesting? A marriage is true only after it is consummated and I will not jeopardize my claim—”
“Your claim to my lands? My title? My people?” A wave of anger filled her and it was impossible to stop the words.
“Aye, countess,” he answered, his voice filled with sarcasm. “What was yours is now mine. And I want no question to be raised about my right to all that was granted to me.”
Realizing her mistake, she stepped back and knelt before him. If she had to humble herself to him to gain a reprieve, so be it. She had done so before to protect what was hers; it would not be so very painful to do so once more. She needed time before he found out the truth of her dishonor. No, not dishonored…she would never consider herself as that. Nothing she had done, nothing she had tried to do, would ever deserve the outcome she had reaped. She had not given away her honor; she still carried it deep within her.
Taking a deep breath, she whispered, “My lord, I meant no challenge to your rights as my lawful husband. Truly. As my husband, all I have is yours. I am yours.”
She heard his breathing and wondered at his response. She waited for him to say something before continuing, but he said nothing.
“I have recently lost my father and have faced many trials in trying to keep my estates and my people from ruin. Please, my lord, give me a bit of time to accustom myself to our marriage.”
She felt his hands grasp her shoulders and pull her to her feet before him. Raising her eyes to him, she waited for his refusal. Even she understood the need to claim her, but her fear of what he would do when he discovered her lack of virginity had driven her to this.
“I will go to my room, Emalie. You have your reprieve.”
“But, my lord, what of…?” Confused over his quick agreement, she thought to ask him about Eleanor’s order that there be no repudiation of their vows.
“Do not worry about your reputation—I will mark the sheets so that none question that the deed has been done.”
Christian walked from her to the side of the bed, rolling back his sleeve as he moved. After he pulled the bedcovers back, he drew a knife from his belt and made a small, precise slit in his forearm. He held his arm out over the bed and allowed small drops of blood to fall onto the white sheets, marring their cleanliness forever. She gaped as he assessed the amount necessary and then pressed his other hand over the wound to stop the bleeding.
“Now no tongues will wag on the morrow.”
She stood there, speechless, unsure of what to say and unable to force a word out of her mouth.
“In a way, this is a blessing of sorts.”
“It is, my lord?” For her certainly, but for him? There would be time to explain to him, in some way, what had happened to her. She did not think she would ever reveal the name of the man who had taken what Christian should have had, but she owed him some accounting of her actions.
“As you said, this marriage was a surprise to me. Although I came here to carry out some order of the queen’s, I did not expect to gain a wife, more titles and more lands. This reprieve of yours will give us some time to learn about the other and to accommodate ourselves to this marriage.”
His words agreed with hers, but there was something underneath the words themselves. She sensed something questionable, something dangerous…just something else there. Mayhap this was a blessing after all. If he could see her as a capable chatelaine, a calm and sober woman and a dutiful wife, mayhap he could forgive her lapse of…behavior? Time might be exactly what she needed.
“I agree, my lord,” she answered. “Many men and women of our class do not have the opportunity to acquaint themselves with their spouses before marriage. This could indeed be a blessing.”
Emalie watched once more as the fire lit his face and many emotions played across it. She wasn’t certain that there would ever be enough time to really know this man. A strong feeling of betrayal emanated from him and she worried about the effect her own news would have on him. Would he be able to accept her sin or would he make her pay dearly for her lack of virtue? Either way would be in his power as her husband and lord and there would be no one able to protect her if he sought to punish her. She had only the queen’s words to give her hope.
“I will retire to my own chamber now, my lady. I will rejoin you in the morning to make our appearance before your people.”
She watched from her place by the hearth as he walked slowly to the door that opened to his room. Did this simply postpone what would happen? He turned to face her once more before leaving her chamber.
“I would ask that you share this arrangement between us with no one else.”
The only person she could speak to about such intimate matters was her maid Alyce. Alyce knew everything about her and would go to her death before revealing any of it to anyone else. Alyce had proved herself to be trustworthy even in the face of John’s threats and intimidation.
“Not even the woman Alyce, if you please.”
A bittersweet smile crossed his face as he spoke. Did he read her thoughts now? She nodded at him and he left without another word, leaving her confused and overwhelmed by her body’s reaction to his slight touches and passionate kiss.
Emalie gazed around the room and stared at the drying stain on her bedsheets. Christian’s mark on her sheets was almost exactly the size of the one left there the night that William had taken her virtue. Alyce had shown her the sheet before burning it to protect her. Now here was this fake one proclaiming her purity to any who would see it.
A part of her wanted him to know the truth. A part deep within her twisted with guilt over deceiving this man brought to save her people. Another part of her, trained well by her father, recognized that Christian Dumont, le Comte de Langier and now Earl of Harbridge, had his own price to do what he was doing. For in her limited experience, no man, especially not a nobleman, did anything that did not fulfill his need for power, land or titles. That she may be recompense for some task or past glory from the king did not surprise her.
Emalie circled the room, blowing out the candles and trying to calm herself before sleep. She crept into the bed, hearing the ropes creak under her weight. Settling on one side and trying to keep her sleeping gown from the stain, she closed her eyes and waited for sleep to come. A thought came to her even as she fell under sleep’s power—he had shed his own blood to protect her.
But knowing that her monthly cycle was already late by many days, she wondered if his attempt would be successful?
Christian strode over to the hearth in his chambers and poured more wine for himself. Sitting in a chair near the fire, he pondered his actions, still not believing his luck this night. Clearly she was an innocent and had not understood his situation. For in asking him for this delay, she had saved him from revealing his truth—that he could not have consummated their vows this night. In spite of a measure of desire, his body had indeed betrayed him.
Taking a deep drink from his cup, he remembered her face as he spoke the words granting her boon. A flash of relief first, followed by suspicion, then relief again had filled her expressive eyes.
So, she was relieved not to have to face that particular duty this night? Was it simply maidenly reticence that caused her to make her unusual request? Placing the goblet down, he rubbed his eyes and stretched his arms.
Emalie had turned out to be so much more than he had anticipated since discovering
the nature of his duty to Richard. Surprise, amusement, respect, and even a little desire had filled him at each of their encounters. He knew full well that his refusal to turn the chatelaine’s keys back over to her angered and embarrassed her, yet she kept her dignity and did not berate or challenge him in public. His first inspection of the records and conditions of the keep revealed that she was clever and efficient in her handling of resources of the demesne and those who depended on it.
He smiled as he remembered the disgruntled look she had worn when he laughed out loud at their first meeting. So intent on his discussions with Eleanor in the solar was he that he never considered that it was the countess standing in attendance on the queen. Emalie had witnessed his every reaction and word to the news that he would wed and never did she betray herself. She could not, however, contain her feelings when he had laughed as he was formally presented to her by the queen. A breach of protocol, but one that he could not control.
The reaction that had given him hope was the one that had coursed through his body when he saw her standing by the fire in her chambers. The flames once again revealed her womanly curves through the gown she wore and once he had lifted her hair from the entrapment of the woolen shawl she held like a shield around her, its silky feel encouraged him to touch it and her. Barely grazing his knuckles over her skin had caused a blush to spread up her neck and over her cheeks. As he watched her respond to his touch, Christian had hoped that all would proceed as it should, but it had not.
He was blessed and cursed with a wife who seemed to be all the things a noblewoman should be—capable, efficient, demure in public and passionate in private. He could understand after watching her for just one day how a woman like Emalie, with her titles and riches, her accomplishments and abilities, and her subtle sexual charisma, could become the center of a plot by John and his cronies. The man who controlled her gained a large portion of England—well-maintained, productive estates that would provide for those attached to them. The man who took her got her riches, as well, and titles with which to earn even more. The man who married her had a wife whose earthy allure and health promised many heirs to carry on his name and honor.
The Dumont Bride Page 6
